from the
sharp precision of the North Tweeder to the broad doric of Kerry, every
portion, almost every county, of Great Britain had its representative. Here
was a Scotch paymaster, in a lugubrious tone, detailing to his friend the
apparently not over-welcome news that Mistress M'Elwain had just been
safely delivered of twins, which, with their mother, were doing as well
as possible. Here an eager Irishman, turning over the pages rather than
reading his letter, while he exclaimed to his friend,--

"Oh, the devil a rap she's sent me. The old story about runaway tenants and
distress notices,--sorrow else tenants seem to do in Ireland than run away
every half-year."

A little apart some sentimental-looking cockney was devouring a very
crossed epistle which he pressed to his lips whenever any one looked at
him; while a host of others satisfied themselves by reading in a kind of
buzzing undertone, every now and then interrupting themselves with some
broken exclamation as commentary,--such as, "Of course she will!" "Never
knew him better!" "That's the girl for my money!" "Fifty per cent, the
devil!" and so on. At last I was beginning to weary of the scene, and
finding that there appeared to be nothing for me, was turning to leave the
place, when I saw a group of two or three endeavoring to spell out the
address of a letter.

"That's an Irish post-mark, I'll swear," said one; "but who can make
anything of the name? It's devilish like Otaheite, isn't it?"

"I wish my tailor wrote as illegibly," said another; "I'd keep up a most
animated correspondence with him."

"Here, O'Shaughnessy, you know something of savage life,--spell us this
word here."

"Show it here. What nonsense, it's as plain as the nose on my face: 'Master
Charles O'Malley, in foreign parts!'"

A roar of laughter followed this announcement, which, at any other time,
perhaps, I should have joined in, but which now grated sadly on my ruffled
feelings.

"Here, Charley, this is for you," said the major; and added in a
whisper,--"and upon my conscience, between ourselves, your friend, whoever
he is, has a strong action against his writing-master,--devil such a fist
ever I looked at!"

One glance satisfied me as to my correspondent. It was from Father Rush,
my old tutor. I hurried eagerly from the spot, and regaining my quarters,
locked the door, and with a beating heart broke the seal and began, as well
as I was able, to decipher his letter. The hand was cr